


Colder Days and Longer Nights

by Aithilin



Series: Seasonal Prompts [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, seasonal fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: The shift from summer to autumn crept up on Nyx sometime in the past weeks. But it hit Noctis out of nowhere.Two slice of life snippets of the change in seasons.





	1. Colder Days

At some point in the last week, the weather had settled. It was no longer the strange limbo between seasons where the coats and heavy sweaters worn in the morning were deemed useless by the early afternoon; the weather across Insomnia had eased its way into the familiar chill of autumn that had been a distant memory for most of the year. The leaves had already started to yellow around his neighbourhood before Nyx realized that he was spending more of the day feeling colder. Nyx found himself rifling through his closet for a heavier jacket, or folding the bulk of his shorter sleeves away and the heavier wools brought forward for a fresh wash. 

He had found, during the transition, that the easy shift between the seasons had nearly managed to creep up on him. 

“Why is it so cold?”

But if autumn had crept up on him, it was about to hit Noctis like a hammer.

“That’s the weather for you.”

“What?”

Nyx pressed the paper mug filled with steaming apple ciders— spiced with a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg— into Noctis’ hands. He smiled at the look of absolute, abject horror on the Prince’s face at the prospect that the weather of his own beloved city was the source of this treasonous chill they had bundled against.

“First day of autumn is next week, little star.” A sweeping gesture indicated the street market around them; the stalls with their wool shawls and mittens and hats, the steaming collection of heated street food, the colourful signs and calendars all pointing out upcoming holidays in every conceivable calendar across Eos. “That’s why we’re here.”

Noctis looked around as if he had just woken up. The crisp air carried the scent of the coals from the vendors, the summery offerings of Altissean gelato and frozen creams replaced by skewered barbeque and grilled root vegetables from Cavaugh. The silks of Tenebrae were lost to the woven scarves of Duscae, delicate fruits plucked from the exotic forests of Galahd replaced with the bounties of Cleigne. The entire market had shifted overnight, in Nyx’s opinion (in a matter of moments in Noctis’); some upheaval between weekends when the new wares were carried in on the crisp winds and the summer colours blown away by the threat of the heavy blue-grey clouds overhead. 

“Wait… When did this happen?”

“How long have you been inside, Highness? You need to get out of that tower more often.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m surprised Ignis didn’t say anything.”

“…He probably did.” Noctis sipped the cider in his hands, watching the market unfold around him with a new understanding. He had been wondering why his lighter clothes had all but vanished from his closet, and why the heavier jackets had started to appear more prominently by the apartment door for him. “I should probably thank him for remembering.”

“We’re in a market,” Nyx grinned, glancing upward to judge the time of day. They had left the core of the city just after dawn, when the chill air had been like a punch to the gut when they stepped out from the warmth of the apartment building’s lobby; when the sky peeking from between the steel dark clouds had been streaks of silver-gold and soft orange, caught in glimpses like a coeurl’s markings in the underbrush back home. “Let’s find a gift.”

The gathering was never quite what he had expected when he thought of a ‘Farmers’ Market.’ But that was not limited to the changing seasons. It was more of a fair— games and musicians, buskers and talents, all gathered around a strip of park grass to compete for the attention of the guests. There were artisans gathers with their wares— knits and treats and remnants of distant provinces and countries beyond the Wall made in the comfort of Insomnia’s apartments and ateliers. Food was imported from across Eos— the heavy, winter ready meals of Gralea on display next to fresh grilled sweetmeats of Galahd. The competition more evident as a Tenebraean cook glared at his Galahdian rival from across their coals— advertisements for the same foods stolen between generations of visits and mingling cultures now focusing on what wood was used to stoke the fires and smoke the meats. 

Nyx couldn’t resist the hickory smoked skewer that was a staple of his childhood meals— heavy red meat of seasonal river fish set side-by-side with the familiar cuts of dark garula steak. He examined his selection carefully, watching the chef grin as he asked for spices, for sauces, for the combinations of flavours the Lucians shied away from. His apple cider all but forgotten in his hand as he waited for the food to be prepared. 

He could almost feel the glare of the cook’s rival on his neck from across the path. Even as Noctis collected a lighter, softer meal of cedar plank cooked fish with a light Tenebraean marinade. 

Noctis cradled the bowl with his meal close against the chill air. The steam of the fresh meal rising around him as he watched Nyx’s food be prepared. “We need somewhere warm to sit.”

“You need gloves.”

“No I don’t. I just need a warm place to never leave again.”


	2. Longer Night

The sun setting over Insomnia was always a breathtaking sight from the right angle. From the Citadel— high above the mess of streets and traffic, the sun set in a blaze on the western horizon, flashing one last bright and shining moment over the fortifications before it disappeared. From an apartment like Noctis’ the sun vanished behind the scattered rooftops that lined the immediate horizon; it’s brightness overshadowed by the shine of the Wall and the flickering lights. 

At the street level, where they still wandered the autumn markets, the sun may as well have set hours ago. 

Some time between the break they took around noon to duck back to Noctis’ apartment, and the whim to chase the promise of more exotic sights buried deeper in the layers of the city, the sun had been replaced with the familiar city lights. 

They had started to glitter in the rusty dusk in the late afternoon, well before the summer evening that Noctis’ internal clock was still set to. 

“What time is is?”

“Around six or seven, I think.”

Where they were, buses and trains’ rides away from the downtown core where they had started, the lights had changed. The Lucian lights were cold silvers and golden glows, the neons of signs and the shine of chrome and glass in the twilight. 

Nyx preferred the fire-warmth of his home district. 

They had ended up in a park a few blocks from his own apartment— the markets smaller, more contained. They were the usual vendors gathered together in neat rows, trying to out-shout each other for business and competing with the shops across the busy streets. Street food carts from across the district had already set up their bright lights— flares of orange and red to draw in those who were trying to bundle against the cold airs carried by the longer shadows. The city streetlights dimmed in comparison to the Galahdian tendency to find the warmest, brightest lights to adorn every doorway and balcony and shop-front. The city lights of advertisements and shining gilded decorations better known in the centre of the city were absent this far away from the Lucian heart of things; instead the lights were tossed across narrow roads in unfurled strings and streamers— a cooperation of neighbours and rival businesses. The colours of different islands, clans, festivals all brightened the street as the sun was lost behind the taller buildings some time closer to four in the afternoon. 

And in the park itself, there were long patches of darkness and shadow, held at bay by the right vendor facing the right direction. The glow of phones in place of fireflies as people wandered between the lights. 

“It can’t be that early,” Noctis said, cold hands around a steaming bowl of cobbler bought from a cart only a few steps away. 

They had stopped to watch the set up for a bonfire that would be happening in the next few days; the centre of the park roped off as locals tossed broken pallets from store shipments and scrap wood from where ever else it could be salvaged together. Nyx checked his phone against the clock that had taken root in his instincts and he smiled. “Sorry, five-thirty.”

“You’re lying.”

“Never to you, little star.”

“No, seriously.”

“It’s fall, Noct,” Nyx smiled and shrugged as if he had personally tried to stop the passage of seasons and failed. “The sun’s still up somewhere.”

“Yeah, downtown.” Noctis looked around the busy park with new wonder— the people were no longer out for evening strolls, but part of rush hour. The twilight was now just the long shadows cast by taller buildings as the sun got lower. The sky above, obscured by the shimmer of the Wall, was s deception— the real sky beyond, glimpsed between towering buildings and the waver of magic, was still bright. 

Nyx had to laugh at the look of utter betrayal that crossed Noctis’ face.


End file.
